Sunday, October 24, 2004
I have such an interesting life.
Which is why I spent late yesterday evening adding more photographs to Flickr. This time they are of my 1998 trip to Tanzania. They are distinctly unedited, hence of very variable quality. Bear in mind they were taken using a very cheap point-and-click camera [which meant it had less parts to seize up expensively in the dust].
This set are also half the size, or resolution of the previous groups, simply because I didn't want to take up too much filespace. Should you wish to see a better image of any of them, let me know, and I might get round to it. I can't guarantee that the tone and colours will be identical to the first scan, as quite a few got tweaked as I was scanning them. Which allowed me to finally find out what one of the them was supposed to be showing. It's a monkey, in the foreground. In the original print, a black lump didn't show up well against the apparently black vegetation.
And they are scans of the prints, as I haven't quite figured out how to take them from the negatives yet. I did try on one of them (the under-exposed monkey above), but it took me ages to get something that looked normal, and then I realised I'd used the wrong under-exposed negative.
A breif run through of what there is [number by the numbers in the filename, but the order got slightly jumbled when uploaded to Flickr]:
1-4. The hill above Marangu whilst we did all sorts of stuff in a school. There should still be a kitchen [badly] built by us somewhere. Our whole worthy thing of building schools in a poor African country, well, got slightly distorted by discovering that the school was a private boarding school for the daughters of the local businessmen of Moshi [just down the road], and that the people supplying the cement could have done everything we did, better, and quicker [and probably cheaper]. Anyway, some shots of the views from the school, and I've spared you the images of us looking cold, wet and tired.
Incidentally, the name for the local tribe is "Chagga". It means cannabis [the foothills of Kilimanjaro being ideal for its cultivation. Not that I noticed]. In previous centuries they reputedly were the main traders of East Africa. Trade at the time consisting of drugs and slaves [the neighbouring tribes]. Sensible people.
5-9. The waterfall a short [slippery] walk away. People swam. I didn't. It was pretty damn cold. But as it apparently flowed straight off the side of Mt Kilimanjaro, what can you expect?
10-25. Mount Kilimanjaro via the motorway route. Two main peaks, the jagged one is Mawenzi, the snowy [and taller] is Uhuru. I didn't quite get all the way to the top, having had enough of the freezing scree, and managed to walk into a large boulder. I was walking towards a large block of slightly paler darkness. It got bigger. I kept getting bigger. I kept walking. I couldn't figure out why there was a big plain patch in my vision. I kept walking. Eventually I recognised it as a rock. I kept walking. I hit it. I was surprised. It hadn't occurred to me that I might need to avoid it, and I can't walk through rocks. Whether it was the beginnings of altitude sickness, hypothermia, or simply fatigue I have no idea. I joined the next cluster of people going back down. It was bizarre. You can't really sleep, and you can't really be awake. Life has dreams and dreams have life, both superimposed on each other. The graffiti on the bed was curiously distracting. It wasn't terribly fun. But I seemed to have recovered the next morning, when I got to sit and watch the sun rise over Africa. Whereas those who had got to the peak, had spent the night walking round in freezing fog not knowing if they had found it, or whether that bit over there was slightly higher. On the whole it was pretty stunning, and fairly interesting - if only because I discovered that batteries can freeze, and they don't work when frozen.
26-46. Lake Manyara National Park. Lake Manyara was considerably bigger than it was supposed to be. Flooding isn't really something one associates with Africa. Oh, and look out for other animals in the background of some shots.
47-68 Tarangire National Park. Which somehow mutated into Lake Tangirie. Oh well. In a very Gaian way, they were having a drought.
69-83. Ngorongoro Crater. A rough guide to some of the odder pictures. Small pink hump = flamingo. Small grey hump = corrie bustard [or cory/kori bustard]. Larger grey hump = ostrich. Dark specks in a lake = hippopotamus. But I like the dark, brooding, tricolour nature of most of them.
It was pretty cold and damp whilst we were there. It seems a bit strange to be putting on enough clothes for English autumnal drizzle, whilst on the brink of the Rift Valley. The driver reasoned that the lions would be doing what most humans would want to do, and would spend the day curled up somewhere warm. I wasn't that disappointed about not seeing them [well obviously I'd like to, but], having just been in a "wow zebras cool!" mood. But other people seemed to get more pleasure out of mentioning the lion cubs just up the road, to the groups of American tourists passing the other way [cruel I know. Especially when someone made a passing comment about the tigers, to which the Americans eagerly responded. I think his reply was that they'd see them if they went north-east a bit].
84-91. Zanzibar, Zanzibar [otherwise known as Stone Town]. One building in particular is a stunning example of why the current colonial power should not improve upon the buildings of the previous colonial power. It started off as an Arabian building, which then got Portuguesed-up, and then had British Victorian dumped on top [I think there was another layer, but I've forgotten who it was]. It's certainly distinctive. Whereas most of the other buildings were once grand and ornate, but now haven't faired well in a tropical maritime climate. And for some reason I decided it would be rude to take pictures of the stereotypical studded doors of the town.
92-107. A series of sunrises, moonrises, and other landscape stuff from the east coast. And some huge sea urchins. And some fish. Well, I know there were fish when I took the picture, I just haven't been able to find them since. And when will I learn that taking pictures of stuff in water, when the camera isn't, never works?
108. A misplaced image. From the coach on the road between Dar es Salaam and Moshi [we got a coach because the railway line up from Dar had apparently been washed away in flooding. The power of El Nino]. Bizarre geology. And no I didn't notice that big greasy smudge at the time.
Probably the best way to browse them is by tags [quite why I bothered to distinguish Tanzania and Tanzania geographic, I'm not sure, as the pictures of the people I went with aren't likely to appear here any time soon].
In other news.
Weetabix. I got an email from the help man (the address suggests there's just the one) along the lines of: Firefox is new, therefore untested. You can't expect us to test every silly little browser in the world. Um. Not so little. Same base as Netscape. Netscape not really little [and there is the whole predating IE thing, and that odd anti-trust thing]. So that's probably one in 8 (from the stats on here) who will have the same problem. The site doesn't state the user needs the latest version of Flash and IE running on Windows ME or whatever [as they make no mention of prerequisites], so it's a bit harder to complain when people use stuff other than that. I know I'm being bloody minded, and don't worry I didn't say quite this in reply, but still ... Microsoft describe some the flaws in IE as critical, and their scale only goes up to critical. How much more of a hint do people need?
The man even uses Microsoft Exchange. QED [or possibly Muppet].
Is it me, or does Bettany Hughes think she is [or at least is trying to be] the Nigella Lawson of the ancient Mediterrean world? Figure hugging clothes as she sashays round the base of some pillar, her hand stroking across the stonework, toying in the crack; thick hair tossed in the zephyr as she angles her head coquettishly towards the camera, her eyes come-hithering. Constant references to lithe bodies, and sumptuous curves. Pottery and dyes are rich, luscious and seductive, marks of decadence and luxury. Graceful, voluptuous hillsides erupt into the passionate night.
Just listen to the way she says Knossos: her instep is sliding up King Minos's calf as she does it.
Just me then?
And then it was on to Francesco da Mosto's Venice. Cue him lighting a cigarette furtively [and only my brain would try to do "furtively" in an Italian accent]. The programme is pretty much: Venice is great city, greatest in the world, but is a-sinking. But great city. Is a bit corrupt, but is Italiano, so no matter. Hmm, I'd better stop the really patronising mock-accent now. Anyway, the series is a bit slow, but has some good bits buried somewhere in the mud. For instance discovering that "ghetto" comes from the local name for a fort.
Oh, and I've also finished Moby Dick, only after #cough# months [bloody American dates. I was trying to find when I first mentioned it, and Blogger tells me 5/2/04. So I look up February. Anyway, I know I was reading it at the end of March]. The fact that says months is probably an indicator of how I got on with it. Though in fairness, I did break off to read a Dick Francis or two [I was ill], a couple of really rubbishy books [including Flood by Richard Doyle. Anything that can go wrong, does. Thrice. It also felt like the author had gone out and done research, and written everything in his notes into the book, regardless of whether it fitted or not. There was also a strange modular quality to it, as if his editor had given him a different set of recommendations after reading the latest section. And of course the ending was a complete cop-out], and breaking off to just do anything that isn't reading that book.
I've been reading it so long, that by the time I got to the end, with all the Victorian melodramatic fulfilling of prophecies, I couldn't remember what all the prophecies were meant to be. So the ending came as a bit of a surprise, because I was expecting a more modern version, in which Moby Dick is slain, but Ahab dies too. I was of course forgetting that this is a slightly gothic Victorian melodrama.
Basically, whilst there were some good bits, there was simply to much that wasn't. If you want to know about whales, read a cetology textbook, not some rebuttal to Darwinism. If you want to struggle to remember which on the topgallant is, read Hornblower.
There was also an odd bit that stuck in my head. Towards the end of the book, Starbuck [is that where the mermaid brand comes from?] repeatedly says "Oh my captain, my captain". Which felt strangely familiar. Then I remembered that it is used in the film, The Dead Poets Society [of which I've vaguely seen most of it]. So are they quoting Herman Melville? But I thought in the film it was "Oh captain, my captain". They wouldn't have got it wrong, would they? A Google later, and it's apparently from a Walt Whitman poem, but I can find no dates for when it was published, only the dates he lived. So which came first, "Oh captain", or "Oh my captain"? And who is ripping off whom, or was it pure coincidence?
And sorry if this post seems a bit disjointed, but I've spent all day arguing with the wireless connection. Previously whenever the connection fell over, I would have go and reset the router, or use the other computer to reset the wireless settings (literally a case of hitting "save settings" without changing any of them). Today it's being extra kind to me, and when the signal disappears (it doesn't ebb away, but just stops), it reappears a short time later. Perhaps. Which given it's decided that 3 minutes really is enough time for anyone to do anything they could possibly want on the entire web, is getting a little wearing. Especially as it doesn't necessarily reappear.
My verdict. PC World needs bombing. And that bomb may well turn up in the guise of a blue and grey Linksys router box[1], because at the moment that's the function it's likely to have in the foreseeable future. And a message for anyone who works for Cisco[2]. Your products have officially achieved the benchmark status of "useless heap of crap".
[1] Of course I'd have to replace the aerial with an old fashioned fuse, because there's no way I could use remote detonation on it, and any timing device would get bored and give up after two and a half minutes.
[2] Well it might happen. I mean, if I can get people coming here on computers named "future-is" on the orange.co.uk domain, you never know.
So yeah, a bit of an odd weekend. Not helped by wanting to check if the DVDs I bough recently work. How did I do this? Put them in the machine, click on all the optional extras, and hit play. Which meant I watched the first 10 minutes of Shallow Grave in French, with Dutch subtitles. Geen is no, I think.
Just as well I haven't tried that approach on Lost Highway yet.
Just checked, and it doesn't do alternative languages, nor does it even run to subtitles. In fact the only other film form that cluster to offer and alternative soundtrack is The Shining. Which would be too weird in French.
Voici Johnny!
[How should one spell Johnie?]
Whilst finding links I also found this. I'm easily amused.
Anyhoo,
